I'm fine
by sinistervampyre
Summary: Even though one may seem to have a perfect relationship, one's mind would disagree. Told entirely by Usagi's POV.


Disclaimer:: I do not own the characters of SailorMoon.

Told entirely in Usagi's POV.

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Their relationship was perfect to the outside eye. Everyone who looked at them couldn't help but letting out a happy sigh, and secretly wishing that they had it too.

But what good would "perfect" do, if hidden beneath it was truly perfect, instead of the reality of 'fucked up'?

Of course he bragged to his best friend about his practically perfect relationship, why wouldn't he? She had given him no reasons to make it seem that they had problems. There had been no serious fights, no crying, no hitting, and no making-up. In fact, the last fight, if you could call it a fight, was over who was the prettiest. And they clearly settled to not agree with each other. Indeed, his bragging was _meant_ to be heard.

Although, she did not see it this way. Sure, any girl loves it when her guy brags about their relationship. But how could she support a bragging that was a complete lie? Especially when it was her thinking that made it a lie. For you see, she always had reasons for serious fights, and she always found herself crying when he was not there to witness it. All her hidden sorrows and angers is what made everything about them a lie. Time and time again, she wanted to tell him, wanted to explain everything. But how could she bring herself to knock him off his high horse? To smash his "perfect" relationship, that he brags about constantly, to bits? Exactly. She couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to tell him everything to his face. So she decided to write it down, and hopefully he would find it one day, and figure out why, all those times she had seemed bothered, but she always answered "I'm fine."

--A story about a girl who keeps everything to herself, but tells all to strangers.

Retold by the only person who truly understood.

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November 17, 2004: Dad's birthday. Or so it would have been, if he were here that is.

Getting up that morning was the hardest thing I had to do that entire month. Not only was I plagued by deadlines, boyfriend troubles, and my period, I had to face the day without a dad that I should be hugging and handing gifts.

"I'm a trooper." It amazes me to this day, how many times I'd say that sentence to get me through something that I really hated doing.

Picked up a friend that lived near me, and my boyfriend before heading off to face another monotonous day at school. Hoping that maybe today would pass by without problems or tears. Who needs to cry when you have to worry about chemistry?

I truly detested my chemistry teacher. I didn't know if it was the fact that she looked and sounded like my aunt, who I also hated, or if it was because she taught the only subject that I didn't understand.

First four periods passed by quickly, and thanks be to the heavens. Lunch was but a period away, and then it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. My couch, and a Hershey bar was but 4 hours away.

I don't know why everyone hates math. It's not as hard as they all make it seem, its just basics concepts and formulas. I really shouldn't be talking though, I'm what they call "advanced", so I automatically think things are easy. That's all just complete bullshit.

He picked the perfect timing to make an already bad day become worse. He mentioned her name again. His infamous ex-girlfriend. The worst part about it? I actually liked her. She was extremely sweet, and very pretty. One of the most awesome girls I knew. Yet, whenever her name came out of his mouth, I felt an extreme disliking for her. I was becoming another typical selfish jealous girlfriend. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

Of course I could just go and tell him how I felt about him saying her name, and worse, being good friends with her, but what good would that do? Any sane person would just tell me to fuck off, that I couldn't tell them who I wanted them to speak or hang out with. And I agree; I can't tear away a good friend of his, just because I get a tinge of jealousy every time he mentions her. So I shrug it off. But a bothered look finds it's way to my face, the damned thing always gives me away. Every time he asks "What's wrong? Are you ok?" and every time I answer "I'm fine." Pitiful cycle, but at least it keeps us from fights, and me from crying in front of him.

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December 18, 2004: a little over a month later. Hiding my true feelings about his ex, and about how scared I am gets harder.

It's Christmas break, and he just stayed the weekend with me. We were both sick, and watched movies constantly. I almost cried in front of him, when he professed that he had fallen in love with me. I was thinking how preposterous it was to fall in love under 3 months, and at the sheer age of 16, but then I realized that I had been falling that same direction for 2 weeks. So I kept my mouth shut, and just stared into his eyes. Truth be told, I was scared out of my wits.

After dad died, when I was little, I would attach on to anyone that showed me kindness or small amounts of love. This soon became a dirty habit I carried with me until the 8th grade. That's when I met what I like to call my "first love". Of course, I attached onto him like a leech, and he told me the most poetic and romantic things. Which led me to believe he wanted me forever, a sweet naive thought. After he broke my heart, I immediately dropped my habit, and formed a new one. I was too scared to get close to anyone that showed me kindness or small amounts of love. Especially if I found myself to feeling a love for them too. I was afraid that if we got too close, I would lose them. Just like I lost my father, and my "first love". Which brings us to why I was so scared when Luke told me how he felt.

I had reached the point of no return; that point where I had confessed my feelings to him, and he in turn, confessed his to me, and they were so strong that if I decided to back away now, I would break him in two. I wanted to back away. I wanted to so badly, that in my head, I would think of ways to break it off, millions of ways. But they all ended up in tears and anger and sorrow. What kind of ending is that?

No, I had to stay with him, even if it meant me being so scared I had to force myself not to cry.

Everything was going well, it was morning, and we woke up to each other's eyes. We laid in bed for hours kissing and watching movies on TV. It was absolutely wonderful, even though we were still a bit sick. And then the phone rang. I answered, and it was a friend of his. I laughed and handed it over, not really paying attention to them. Until, I heard him utter her name. I got that look on my face again, the bothered one. He talked about how he couldn't go caroling with his friend, because he was with me, and how he was leaving with his father on Tuesday to go to Boston for Christmas. He mentioned how he was applying for a job tomorrow, one that he was sure to get, and then he said the one thing that put me in the worst mood. How he was going to watch a jazz band in the city with her. The night before he left, for an entire week, he was spending with his ex. She would be the last face he would see, the last hug he would get, and the last person he would think about.

I was on the brink of tears; the jealous and selfish side of me took over. My mind began to question and over exaggerate the situation: Why would he see her and not me? Could it be any more obvious that he wanted to see her face last instead of mine? I bet they're going to kiss. It only takes a few hours for a girl to rekindle an emotion for a guy that she once liked. No matter how sweet she is I bet she'll try and seduce him. Oh great, they'll be laughing, and hugging, and flirting. Even if it is an innocent flirt. But does that even exist? An innocent flirt?

It went on like that for hours, the look still etched into my face. I tried my best not to cry, so I hid my face from him in my pillow. His voice behind me saying the usual, "What's wrong? Are you ok? What's the matter? Come on, tell me." Me, desperately trying to keep my cool, just solemnly answering "I'm fine."

I took him home an hour after his conversation on the phone. Before he got out of the car, he kissed my cheek, and told me he'd call me later. I managed to breathe out an OK before I could blurt out "Don't bother."

Six hours later, still no phone call. I could feel my heart aching, and a voice in my head chanting "I told you so".

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December 25, 2004: Christmas morning. He called many times that week, but I never answered. The only thing worse than crying in front of him, is crying when he's on the phone.

I woke up early, and laid in bed until I heard my mom shuffling around in her room beside me. I got up, and pulled a sweater over my head, forcing a smile on my face. I told myself that if I could get through this day, I could get through anything.

"I'm a trooper."

We went downstairs, opened gifts, and took pictures. Watched movies for hours, and drank eggnog, while laughing at stupid comments that we would make at the TV.

The cats entertained us just before nightfall, and persuaded us to get up and play along.

No phone call. I promised myself, that no matter how hurt I felt, I would answer his call on Christmas. And if he asked the right questions, I would explain everything. It was the least I could do.

But before I knew it, it was midnight. And no words slipped out of my mouth about how our practically perfect relationship was going to fall to bits.

That night was the first night I didn't cry myself to sleep. I felt that I didn't deserve the satisfactory of letting my emotions out. I was a cruel person, and wasn't even acknowledged on Christmas. Was there a punishment worse? Maybe so. I was convinced he had called her instead.

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December 27, 2004: he returned from his 2-day trip.

He was gone for 2 days after Christmas. He didn't know that he was leaving, but he called me as soon as he got to a payphone. I couldn't hold back the tears. It was the first snowfall we've had in ten years, and he was off somewhere at a payphone.

He told me that he loved me, and that he was sorry at least 100 times. But they were all empty words to me at that moment. I don't think I could have believed him, even if he was bleeding and about to die. But that's a horrible thing for me to think, isn't it?

He returned today. But I don't think I can bring myself to see him. I don't want to have to tell him what I've been thinking for the past few weeks. I don't want to crush his heart this year. So, I didn't answer any calls. I pretended that I was out all day.

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December 31, 2004: New Year's Eve.

He came over all day. He was ecstatic to see me. I put on my fake smile, and hugged him. I didn't know how much longer I could go on pretending. But what harm could one more day bring me?

By dinner I was starting to cry. He took me aside and forced me to tell him what was the matter. I couldn't handle the hurt look on his face when he saw me cry, so I tried the best I could to make my thoughts seem good. But it didn't work. His face fell, and his eyes started to fill with unshed tears. He claimed he felt guilty for how he had unconsciously hurt me.

Tears were staining my cheeks as I tried to explain to him over and over again that it was my entire fault. That my stupid mind had twisted things into one huge untrue mess. But he insisted that it was his fault, and wanted me to take him home. He didn't want to be around me when he "hurt me so much." That made my heart split in two.

At exactly midnight, we reached his house, and I stepped out of the car with him. I went over to hug him, hoping that he would forget everything. He squeezed me tight, and then pulled away to face me. I'll never forget what he said next.

"If I hurt you so much, to make you cry every single night, then I don't want to be with you. I can't handle the pain of knowing that I make you feel so bad. You're going to start this next year without me. Goodbye."

He walked off, leaving me crying in his driveway; snowflakes slowly falling around me.

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January 1, 2005: 12.05am.

I drove to the end of his street, and stopped the car. I sat there for at least 10 minutes just crying. I debated on whether or not I should turn around and burst through his door. But what good would it do? I knew things would never change.

A few moments later, I looked back at his house, only to see him in his driveway, staring at my car.

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--- more later.


End file.
